Guest Info Plot & Events

Current Month 3.2591 A.R. 9th Interval

Southern Winds has plotted events roughly every OOC week. This means our story is ever evolving and Southern Winds is changing. Events for the current month are listed here, once you've registered for an account.

Our roleplay time is pretty fluid. We allow you to play anything that may have happened in the past, but not in the future, as events that may affect the entire weyr may ruin futuristic plots.

We list Flights, Clutches, and Hatchings for both Dragons and Flits here, as well as whers. There are Candidate events and classes and Crafter plots. A little bit of something for everyone.

Feel free to say hello, guesties! Registered members can request a colored name here.

Remember,
this holds no IC consequence and is only for fun.

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Welcome!

Hello and Welcome!

We are a mature, 9th Interval AU Pern. We've destroyed almost the entire planet in a catastrophic event. While we feature 2 new mutations, we stick pretty close to canon. We've Ranks, roles, and positions for just about anyone who wants to get involved, with a relaxed community. Play and post at your own pace. Swing by and say hello!

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Southern Winds uses a subaccount system to distinguish between Players and their Characters. So REGISTER with your Player Account Name and the admin will assign you your Character Subaccount once your character is approved!

Southern
Winds is a Mature Roleplay. This means we allow for sexual, violent
content that would be found in a struggling, 9th Interval Pern. Sex is
common place in the Weyr and terrible deaths are no stranger here. As
such, our players should be 18+. These themes are to be handled maturely
at all times.

A particularly warm day had sent pleasant, inviting air into the normally cooler tunnels of Fort Hold today. It was a sort of teasing, coy wind, lulling the Hold residents into a false sense of summer time carelessness. Nevermind the thread that fell so heavily outside, nevermind that winter was nearly upon them and once again many would go hungry for lack of supplies. These thoughts didn’t trouble Nealros as he ran through one of the open air caverns, a common room of all sorts to gather if they had downtime and the right mood.

Seven turns was more than most children got to see these days and he was taking full advantage of the vigors of youth. Well fed, he’d grown like a weed and towered over other boys his age. He was an easy target among so many dirty, forgotten urchins. They gathered here, too, though they hugged the shadows until backs were turned.

The work day was winding down and many of the adults were ready to turn in for their respective dinners. Most folk were too occupied with finalizing tasks and making plans for the following day to care about a bunch of boys bickering amongst each other. It was a common enough sight, these days, and as long as the fight didn’t come their way no one really paid mind. Neal was in the middle of the rowdy lot, getting shoved this way and that. He might be taller, but he’d never be muscular.

The words being said to him were a mixed bag of cheap insults and digs at his family. They told him he was an ugly boy, he’d have to marry a whore, that he might as well marry his mom in that case. That made him angry. Nealros felt his arm moving before he thought much on it. It was a clumsy punch, not lacking enthusiasm but certainly suffering in finesse. It didn’t land and it put him off balance. He was easy to knock down, then.

To his credit, Neal didn’t yell out in pain as they began to kick him. He curled into a ball to protect his soft bits and his lack of a reaction was less fun that his bullies had anticipated. A few stopped the assault immediately, and those that remained only had half a heart to land any further blows. Somehow it didn’t feel as rewarding when their target didn’t fight back, or squeal like a stuck wher.

Finally an adult noticed that the group had devolved into something a little less friendly and a little more dangerous. Maybe they noticed that it was Tavianna’s son receiving the brunt of it. Either way, a lot of noise was suddenly made and all of the children scattered. Nealros was helped up, he didn’t know by who, but he shrugged them off anyway. “‘M fine,” he’d say, gruffly. His lip was bleeding, he knew he’d have a swollen eye soon. Everything else hurt, too, but not so bad to suggest the break of bone. He’d bruise, but he’d be fine.

Neal ran then, too. Back toward the familiar tunnels that lead to home. He ran until he knew the neighborhood held allies of his family and only then did he stop. He didn’t want his mother to see him like this, and he didn’t want to disappoint his father. Nealros floundered momentarily, torn between the safety of his room and the embarrassment of being caught.

Tresrissa had spent the day training Tressisk. Whilst Tavianna could have helped, and surely had before, her mother had let her know that Tressisk was her responsibility, and it was up to her to make sure the wher was properly trained and an asset to their family. And so, when her duties to her family had been done for the day, Tressie had been taking the little green off to train.

It seemed to be working well, but Tressie was slightly uncertain as to whether she was doing a good job, or the wher just simply wanted to be taught. She seemed smart, and willing to do anything Tressie asked of her, it really didn't take much to train the green.

But the two had been working on strengthening exercises recently, the green was small and neither of them wanted her to be the weaker party if anything happened. A fault of her colour perhaps, Tressisk would always be the one who had to work harder than anyone else, but both of them seemed content to work together and fix that.

"Good job Tressisk," she was saying, "Tomorrow we'll have to do that again, you need to work more on the larger stuff, body sized weights you know?" Before she ran right into Nealros.

"Nealros? Neal? Hey." Her hand went up to his face, her eyes sharpening with anger when she saw the cut across his lip, and the bruises which were forming slowly but surely. "Are you okay?" Her voice steely, she continued, "Who did this to you?"

Like a hurt animal he had tucked himself as close to the edge of the wall as possible. These tunnels were too well lit to provide much shadow, but he thought if he pretended to be very small that perhaps he could go unnoticed. He knew he ought to head to the bathing pools, change his dirty, bloody clothes, and then somehow find a way to mend his bruising flesh. Maybe he could steal some flour from the cooks, dust his skin with it.

His planning was cut short by two sets of approaching steps. He realized, belatedly, that at some point he’d been crying and he struggled now to wipe the tears from his cheeks and sniffed loudly, clearing snot from his nose. It took him a second to be able to focus and see just who was coming toward him and when he realized it was Tressie, he was half relieved. It wasn’t one of the boys, chasing him down for more, but he also knew that she’d tell their parents about him.

Neal pulled himself up off the ground, glaring resolutely at her. Like the good sister she was, she was trying to check his injuries. He stiffened at her touch, afraid it’d cause more hurt, and chewed his cheek to distract himself. “Don’t call me that,” he said, somehow keeping the tremble out of his voice. “Nealros or Ros, never Neal.”

He kicked his foot out, scuffing his shoe and hung his head. “I fell down.” And the floor was full of pointy edges. “Don’t tell ma, it’s nothing big.” He raised his gaze back up to her, his eyes pleading.

"Sorry." She said, genuinely apologetic. Tressie did know how much her little brother disliked, she just... slipped up sometimes, found it hard to remember when others purposefully used the name. But she was going to try, try harder to not use it anymore. At least... only use it when she was being spiteful, cause then Nealros would know the difference.

Her heart clenched at the look that he gave her then, the pleading look that made her want to rethink everything she had been programmed to do. It was... simply what she did. If something happened, she told her parents, and then Tavianna and Notkerric would make it all okay again but... that look made her want to break the rules just this once.

"Fine Nealros." She said, careful to make sure she used the name he wanted this time. "If you tell me the truth of what happened, then maybe I'll not tell Ma." Whilst she didn't explicitly say Pa, she wasn't going to trick him with a mincing of words, it simply wasn't her style.

"Here," she looked around to make sure there was no one coming, it wouldn't do for anyone to see the son and daughter of Tavianna in such a state, and beckoned him to a little room off the side. It seemed like a storage room, but was dark and dusty and not particularly well-used, so she thought it would give them a bit of privacy to hash out whatever they needed to.

"Now you don't leave anything out Nealros." She said firmly. Tressie wanted to be on her brother's side, but she also didn't want him defending any of his attackers, because that was surely what this was. The aftermath of some ridiculous childhood brawl, wasn't it?

He studied her expression as best he could. The shiner over his left eye was beginning to swell, and that eye still watered piteously as a result. She looked sorry, even if she still seemed more upset than he wanted her to be. Didn’t kids get in fights all the time? Something about character building, hazing being a natural part of life. He was certainly wiser from today’s adventure.

When she relented his mouth broke into a relieved (and painful) smile. The new scab that was building itself over the cut on his lip broke open and added further gore to his appearance. She wanted him to tell the truth, though, and that was more than just recalling the tale. It hurt his pride to think about it, and his natural inclination against snitching made him want to shut his mouth and never open it again. But this was Tresrissa he was talking to, this was his sister who had never been anything but loving and supportive and fun. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell her.

He followed her lead into the side room, mulling over how to phrase things. Finally he seemed to gather the courage and he cleared his throat. “I was in the market commons. Dunno why anymore..” That was true enough. “Buncha dumb kids were there. They started to follow me and say stuff.” He clenched his fists at the memory and screwed up his face in concentration. He wasn’t going to let his voice raise or break, and he certainly wasn’t going to cry about it anymore. “Stuff about ma and pa, about how we’re bad.” Nealros shook his head vehemently. “I don’t get why they think it’s bad we take care of ourselves. They’re all stupid and jealous.”

He slumped against a wall of the closet and continued, though this time with a little shame, “I got mad. Tried to hit one of them.” He shrugged, the rest was obvious. Neal shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking now.

Tresrissa's face hardened uncharacteristically, it wasn't often that she got angry, but a brief moment did cross her mind, before her simple trust in her family overtook it again.

Allowing him to finish his story, Tresrissa pulled a waterskin from the pouch on Tressisk's side, and ripped a strip from her skirts. "Here. You can wash up now." A pretty skirt, but she was sure she'd be able to get another one. It wouldn't do for mother and father to see him like this, although she wasn't entirely sure that even without the blood that his swollen lip and eye would go unnoticed. Either way, it gave her hands something to do.

At 11 turns, Tresrissa certainly hadn't missed the whispers that travelled around Fort Hold about their families occupation. But the life her parents had built for them certainly wasn't bad, and certainly wasn't something that Tressie regretted.

"You know you're right Nealros. They're stupid and jealous." Tresrissa simply didn't understand why others wouldn't like her family. Her mother was perfect, her father amazing, how could anyone dislike them for any reason other than jealously? So what her mother had a job that others didn't, her father was a peacekeeper.

"Pa is a peacekeeper. Ma is a business woman. That's all that matters. If their parents are liars and thieves, so be it. They're just jealous that they don't have a family like ours."

His eyes widened, as much as they could, when she ripped her skirt. New tears threatened to fall from that act alone. He knew the value of objects and his family was certainly well-off in terms of belongings, more so than most. It made him feel a sense of importance that she was willing to sacrifice something so nice for him. He knew his decision to tell her the truth was the right one.

Reverently, he took the offered strip and waterskin. He took a small sip of the water, swished it around in his mouth, and then spat it out in a corner clear of where they were. There was a tinge of red to it but nothing alarming. Neal wetted the cloth and delicately dabbed it over the places where his face stung the most. He scrunched his face up in concentration, refusing to cry further over his injuries.

Nealros sniffed and nodded at his sister, “I know,” he said quietly. It still hurt his pride to think of it, but worse was the knowledge that he had given into what they were after all along. In the future he’d try to temper his rage, though it was certainly going to take some practice for him to master it.

“You’re right.” Neal wiped his face across his arm to dry some of the water and to clear his tears. “Still hate ‘em though. Stupid kids.”

He stood up and thrust the now-bloodied cloth back to Tressie. “Just wait til I get my own wher, then they won’t mess with me.” His faux-tough attitude would be easy to see through, but his desire for a wher was obvious in how he was looking at Tressisk now. “I’ll get a Gold like ma.”

Tressie sighed expressively, not for any particular obvious reason, but just because it felt appropriate to accent her coming words. "Hate is a very taxing emotion Nealros." But she didn't say more than that. Her little brother had always been so... different from her. Hate didn't work for her, it never had, but maybe it worked for him. She could only advise as every older sister had the responsibility to do.

Wiping a thumb over a final slash of pinkish blood, lightened by the tears the boy had shed, Tressie nodded down at him. "People think they're ugly, horrible things until they're face to face with an angry wher. And you with a beautiful, hulking gold like Tavisk? I'm sure they wouldn't mess with you."

Tressisk admittedly, was not only a little ugly and horrible, but small, and most people found her unintimidating. Of course, that was only until she started growling, her eyes turning red, encroaching on their territory. Yeah. That's when they'd stopped messing with her too. After that, they'd all been incredibly polite, some even attempted to be friendly. Although Tressie always noticed the eyes that strayed from her to Tressisk.

She smiled at Nealros, her heart still a little tight seeing how swollen her little brother's face was. "Come on. If we sneak you in now, we might be able to get you some food before Ma and Pa get home and see..." She hesitated. "This." And she gestured vaguely at his face, grimacing apologetically at her not-so eloquent way of putting it.